


(a short hello and) a long goodbye

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e02 Purpose in the Machine, Everybody Lives, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 02:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30048234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: When Fitz falls back through the monolith, he doesn't fall alone.Too bad it's not Simmons who comes with him.
Relationships: Will Daniels/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	(a short hello and) a long goodbye

“Okay. Ready?” Coulson looks across the pit at Daisy.

There are a lot of things Daisy would like to say—mostly _no—_ but then she looks at the only person other than her who’s not hanging back, clinging to whatever’s at hand and bolted down. Everyone else can be cautious—should be, considering what happened to Simmons—but Daisy’s gotta get close to quake the stupid monolith, and Fitz…

He’s standing on the edge, ready to push the probe in. His face is all tense lines and the hand he’s got on the top of the probe is white-knuckled like his life depends on the thing.

Daisy’s not sure it doesn’t.

The grin he gives her is tight and terrified. He lifts his free hand in a thumbs up.

“Yeah,” Daisy says, thinking about Simmons. That last shot of her on the security footage, grasping at the concrete ground for purchase while the monolith swallowed her up. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

The frequency the monolith opens at isn’t just annoying, it _hurts_. She can feel old aches in her bones again, little fissures she thought were long gone vibrating like they’re gonna snap open any second. But if it means saving one of her best friends—two if she’s honest—then yeah, she’ll do this.

As soon as the monolith turns to liquid, Fitz moves. For a half a heartbeat Daisy’s relieved—get it over with faster, right?—but then she sees it’s _him_ moving, not the probe. He jumps right over the edge of the pit and into the blackness and Daisy can’t even scream because if she does she’ll throw off the frequency and then there’s no way they’ll get him back and that’ll be two of her friends gone forever and-

And then he’s back. Almost as soon as he disappears he’s propelled back up, a tangle of limbs and khakis and a squawk of surprise that as soon as Daisy hears it she’s letting go because she can finally scream.

“What the _fuck_?” 

But no one’s paying attention to her. Not when some guy who is definitely not Simmons kicks away from Fitz.

“Jemma?” the guy gasps. “Jemma!” He spins on all fours like a dog, eyes wide in his pale face. Then he’s on his feet, so fast he sways dangerously.

Not so fast the gun doesn’t land steady on Randolph, who’s still clutching the ancient controls.

“Open it,” he demands. “ _Now_.”

Randolph just blinks at him. “I thought you said only Simmons had been taken.”

“I _said_ -”

“Now, let’s just all calm down.” Coulson steps into the guy’s line of sight while lifting his arms in a _talking to a crazy person_ gesture, but that only serves to get the gun pointed at him instead of the immortal guy. Yay.

“Whatever you did, do it again. I have to go back, I- Fitz.” His wild eyes, which have been darting away from Coulson as the rest of them have been moving into position to attack, jump to him.

“You know me,” Fitz gapes. “You know me! That means-”

“Jemma told me,” the guy snaps. “She showed me your video. Her birthday. Now will you _please_ open the portal again?”

“Hold on,” Coulson says. “No one’s opening that portal until we get some answers.” He cuts a hard look at Fitz and the line he’s hooked to his belt. It’s pretty clear they’re also not gonna reopen it until there’s a long lecture about protocol and deceiving your teammates so you can risk your own life. (As if Coulson wouldn’t have done the same.)

“Could we also maybe get the gun out of the equation?” Bobbi asks. Her arch tone is clearly meant to draw the guy’s attention to her, putting it far away from Mack, who’s moving to grab said gun.

Only that doesn’t happen because the guy yells “It’s gonna kill her!” and everything kinda stops.

“She’s _alone,_ ” he says—pleads, really. “I told her to run, that I’d keep it busy. But when you opened the portal it was right under my feet and now there’s no one there- _Fitz_.” He sounds like he’s near tears before the end, but it’s the desperation in that one word that hits Daisy right between the ribs. She knows what it’s like to feel helpless while someone you care about is in danger; it’s clear this guy cares about Simmons.

“Okay,” Daisy says, stepping up. “Someone hold onto Fitz. I hope you have a plan, spaceman.”

She just clocks Mack grabbing Fitz’s shoulders before she starts in on the monolith a second time. Her bones shake, tendons pull against the pressure, and she just barely hears over the sound of her own powers the guy say, “Never do.” And then he’s gone.

<<<>>>

“Sir!” Simmons pushes herself up against the pillows, a grin breaking across her face as soon as he walks in.

“Hello, Jemma.” If Phil’s being honest, he has more trouble than he anticipated keeping his voice steady there. She looks so thin, dwarfed by the big infirmary bed, worse than Skye after she was shot because Skye didn’t have six months of malnutrition leeching at her body.

He contents himself with clasping her hand when he takes a seat rather than wrapping her in the hug he wants. He knows he won’t really break her if he does hug her, but feeling her bones through her skin might break him.

She’s home, he reminds himself. She’s safe.

He thinks he’ll have to _keep_ reminding himself for another six months before he truly believes it.

Her expression shifts subtly while she stares at their hands. Relief and joy warring with the PTSD he’s already put in a call to Andrew about. Her thumb strokes over the back of his hand and her lower lip shakes; he can only imagine what it’s like to have such a simple connection feel so monumental.

“I suppose,” she says, once her breathing’s evened out, “that you’ll want to debrief me.”

He sets his phone to record and places it on the small table beside her bed. “Whatever you’re up for telling me.” He doesn’t add that he’s not exactly worried about a threat to the Earth coming from that planet. Reminding her that the monolith barely survived her return trip won’t help her composure any.

She begins, unsurprisingly, at the beginning. She’s clinical in her report. Detached. Phil doesn’t envy Andrew the job ahead of him. The most emotion she allows herself is when she talks about her ruined blouse, how she had to tear it up for her trek across the desert. Coming immediately on the heels of her realization that she was going to die without water, it’s all Phil can do to answer her inviting laughter with a weak smile.

But eventually even she can’t hold back anymore. “After twenty days, starvation was setting in, so I decided my best recourse was to return to the pool. The creature would- would be- I’m sorry.” She doesn’t hide her face in her hands, that’s not Simmons’ style, but her expression shutters just as effectively.

He takes her hand again. “It’s all right. Only what you’re up for, remember?” To be honest, Phil’s shocked she made it this far. He’s known seasoned agents who would’ve broken down at the no sun realization. Simmons made it a full three weeks past that point. “Besides, your friend’s already covered the highlights of the rest. I’m sure your report will be more exact—I’m looking forward to all the big words I’ll have to look up while you explain how you tracked the portals, but- Simmons?” She’s squeezing his hand tightly and looking up at the ceiling, trying to fight back her tears.

Phil reaches awkwardly across himself for the phone, turns off the recorder. “Jemma,” he says in his most gentle tone.

She gasps, wet and broken. “I’m sorry,” she says again. “It’s just- You-”

He shifts to the edge of his chair so he can clasp her hand in both of his. The lack of feeling in his left still opens up a pit in his stomach, but her feeling is all that matters. “Hey. It’s okay. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“But Fitz!” When she meets his eyes, hers are pleading. “He’s not here. I thought for sure he’d be the first, once the quarantine was lifted. But he isn’t.”

“He’s-” Phil struggles for an excuse that won’t be a lie- “busy. He’s trying to get your cell phone working.”

He hesitated too long. Simmons can see the weak excuse for what it is. “He hates me.”

“Jemma, _no_.”

If she knew what Fitz has put himself through the last few months to get her back, she’d know that he could never. But it’s probably best she doesn’t because the next miserable words out of her mouth are “We had a date.”

Phil has no answer for that. He knew of course. They all did. Fitz was so pleased—and so nervous—he told everyone. Asking for advice on which restaurant, which outfit, what should he say, what should he do, was this too much, not enough. And then when the time came and she was nowhere to be found, well, for a while Phil’s ashamed to say he thought she’d chickened out. It took Skye checking the security footage to finally clue them in something was seriously wrong.

He struggles not to let his shame show on his face. They lost _hours_. After all the months it took, it doesn’t seem like much, but at the time Phil couldn’t help beating himself up. Hours can mean the difference between life and death in a normal missing person case; in one that involves an 084? That was valuable time.

“And he spent all this time looking for me, holding onto _hope_ -” Her voice cracks again and Phil cuts her off before she can pull herself together to continue.

“Jemma,” he says, forcing a little sharpness into his voice to get her attention. “I want you to listen to me very carefully, all right? Are you listening?”

She nods shakily.

“You did _nothing wrong_. Whatever happened between you and Daniels, whatever didn’t happen between you and Fitz, you don’t need to apologize for that. You _never_ need to apologize for what you feel. You don’t owe anyone anything.”

She stares at him, looking almost as desperate as Daniels did when he was holding that gun on them.

He never apologized, Phil remembers. _“I had to get back to her,”_ was all he said when it came up again later. Somehow Phil respects him more for that.

“You’re not- not disappointed?” Simmons asks and that hits Phil like a bullet.

“Of course not! Why would I be-”

Her expression—some mix of her old, _please don’t tell me you’re that stupid_ look and a new, haunted one he doesn’t like at all—answers before he’s even finished.

“All right. Fair enough. I won’t say _no one’s_ disappointed—Fitz especially. He’s been in love with you for a while. But, Jemma, you need to remember that even if you’d never left, never met your astronaut, that doesn’t necessarily mean you’d be with Fitz right now.”

It breaks Phil’s heart to say it, but it’s the truth. He’s as guilty as the rest of the team of wanting to see those two work out, but he knows from experience that at some point years of close friendship become as much a barrier to romance as a help.

“Fitz knows that. It’s just rough right now because he’s spent so long dreaming of you coming home and…”

“None of those dreams involved another man coming with me.” He’s glad to hear some ruefulness in her voice. Bitterness aside, it’s a sign of the old Simmons.

“If they did, I’m pretty sure Fitz wouldn’t have made him quite so heroic. That’s probably not helping how he’s feeling. But don’t worry, that’s what’ll help him come around too.”

Simmons’ forehead wrinkles in confusion. It’s an uncommon expression for a woman as smart as her and Phil’s strangely proud to have elicited it, even if he doesn’t know what he’s done to bring it on.

“I haven’t even told you about how he saved me yet.” There’s a breathlessness in her voice, a depth of emotion that’s out of line with her usually reserved demeanor.

That’s what tells Phil once and for all Fitz really has no shot. Simmons may not know it herself yet, but what she’s feeling for Daniels isn’t some post-trauma attachment. It’s the real deal.

But she asked—or implied, at least—a question, one that Phil doesn’t quite have an answer for. Then he remembers that she said he was the first to visit since the quarantine was lifted.

(Of course Skye’s been hanging around outside the pod. Phil’s heard her regaling Simmons with all the funny stories she missed while she was away. Nothing heavy, nothing really meaningful about how the landscape’s changed in the time she’s been gone, but that’s what made it the most meaningful parts to share.)

This, right here, is the first serious conversation Jemma’s had about everything that’s happened.

“Simmons,” Phil says slowly, sitting back in his chair, “what do you know about how you were rescued?”

She shrugs one shoulder. “You sent up a flare to let us know the general area the monolith would be. It- There was a sandstorm. Will was holding onto me to- to make sure we didn’t get separated. We quite literally _tripped_ over the portal.” She laughs once, raggedly. “It was very lucky.”

Phil could kick himself. The plan was to send up a flare _if_ Simmons didn’t immediately jump through. In case maybe she’d stepped away from what they thought was a stationary portal site and would need to be alerted it was open. But in all the chaos of the opening, Phil sent it off almost immediately.

He’s just glad it didn’t hit someone.

“That’s not quite what happened,” he says delicately. “You’re right about luck in falling through. But that was Daniels. He fell through first. Without you.”

Simmons stares, blank-faced.

“When he realized what had happened, that you’d been left behind, he held that gun on us until Skye opened the portal again.”

“ _No_.” Simmons says it so forcefully Phil’s mouth snaps shut. “No, he-” Her laugh is a little more ragged this time. “If what you’re saying is true, then Will would have- he would have had to-”

“Jump back through to rescue you, yes.” From something. Phil hasn’t forgotten about the threat Daniels claimed was on the other side of the monolith. He wonders what Simmons’ take on that will be.

Given how she obviously feels about the man, Phil’s not sure if he hopes the phantom threat is the result of fourteen years of isolation or not. Knowing Simmons was stranded with and is in love with a madman or knowing she was stranded with a sane man and a madness-causing monster; Phil’s really not sure which is worse.

Those tears Simmons has been fighting begin to spill over. “He- he _came back_?”

Phil only nods and that’s all it takes for Simmons to break down. Phil doesn’t hesitate, he lowers the bar on her bed and climbs in beside her, nestling her beneath his real arm.

When she’s finished with her tears for Daniels, she moves on to crying for herself, then probably for the rest of them too, maybe even for the uprising while she’s at it. There’s a lot to cry over, Phil’s not surprised. But eventually she has no more tears left and no more energy either. The hand that was gripping his shirt has gone slack and she’s long ago stopped responding to his shushing.

She’s as bone thin as he feared beneath his arm and it takes more effort than he’ll admit to set her aside, make her comfortable in the bed, and climb out himself. She’s his agent, he reminds himself, not for the first time.

Not for the first time, he knows he’ll have to remind himself again.

Staring down at her, still so small and vulnerable, he wonders if this is how Cal felt when he tried to kill him.

Phil allows himself one more moment, just to brush the hair back from her face so it doesn’t wake her. “We’d hate to lose you, Jemma,” he says softly.

As he leaves, he thinks they already have. If she’d never left, if she’d fallen in love with Fitz, maybe. But Phil doesn’t kid himself. After what Daniels has been through, he won’t he won’t have any interest in the spy life. He _deserves_ the kind of normalcy they fight every day to give people. And so does Simmons.

They’ve got a few months, tops. The time it takes for the two of them to recover. After that, Phil can already see Jemma leaving them, arm in arm with the man she loves, off to find that domestic bliss he’s heard so much about on TV. He can only enjoy what’s left while it lasts—and try not to resent Daniels too much for stealing her away.


End file.
